"Do not forget," said the old man in his soothing voice, "that the plan we are working under is, in a general way, one laid down by him. And he disapproves of the way you have selected in dealing with young Anthony Stevens; he fears it is not a good way." Tarrant sneered; but it was the big young man who spoke. "I have no good reason to hold my hand where this same Anthony Stevens is concerned," said he. "But, on the whole, I agree with Weir. Keen young blades like this are not apt to be budged by hostile talk, or the threat of blows. It only makes them all the more resolved." "It is the captain's desire," said old Bulfinch, "to manage the matter carefully; he plans to be friends with this young man, to encourage him, to support him. And, then, one day will come an occasion when what is necessary can be done with safety. And it _will_ be done." "I have no stomach for craft when a smart blow or two will serve as well," said Tarrant bitterly. But the big young man wagged his head in disagreement. "I once thought that, myself," he said, "and risked my bones every day for a little gain. But Weir's way gives fine profits and no risks; we squeeze our toll out of shipmen and need never even take to sea. Instead of facing a roused captain, with a ship's company behind him, on his own deck, we now, thanks to Weir's brains, make a little arrangement with that same captain before he goes on board; and the ship and cargo are ours at whatever place we say, and without striking a blow." Old Amos Bulfinch smiled; his rosy, saint-like face glowed with mildness. "Could anything be better put?" he asked of Tarrant. "Would it be possible to state a perfect case in more comprehensive words? Sir," to the big young man, "I thank you." "But even in the thing you give Weir so much credit for," said Tarrant, "all is not done that could be done. Why are our operations held to a single house? Why should we be forced to be content with Rufus Stevens' Sons alone? There is Girard; there is Crousillat; there is a half-dozen more. Good profit is to be had by extending our operations to all of these--" But the smooth tones of Amos Bulfinch checked him. "Rich they are, those merchants," agreed old Amos, "and their ships are many. But each man of them is as keen as a knife-blade; each has a thousand eyes! Where a thing can be done in the shadow of Rufus Stevens' Sons with ease and comfort, it could only be undertaken, in the case of these others, with much danger; at almost any moment we could expect to be laid by the heels." "Weir is a dog-fox; I'd follow his plan without question where I'd not even listen to another," said the big young man. "Leave the other houses alone. This one is rich enough, for the time, at least." Tarrant regarded the younger man, and then the elder one, with a curl at his lip.